


Every shade of indigo

by Dionysuswannabe



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dionysuswannabe/pseuds/Dionysuswannabe
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original D&D Character(s)/Other(s)
Kudos: 2





	Every shade of indigo

The sunlight flooding through the glass roof of the greenhouse ensured Loralie a 6am wake up call. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a home, but it was abandoned by the beach side and ensured her a warm place to sleep at night. Despite this, there was something homey about it, the creak of the glass door opening, the metal supports that had rusted long ago, the devil's ivy that climbed up every wall. 

She stopped briefly, staring at herself in the glass, for a second she wondered if her mother would even recognize her anymore. She was far beyond the ornate galas of her childhood. She remembered the days when her mother would sit her in front of the mirror in her home reminding her that she was an Antine, she was next in an endless lineage of powerful spell casters. That child in her had long since died, her hair had grown long and unruly, her eyes had sunken in, her clothes constantly stained with blood. She wasn't considered an Antine anymore, by any metric, really. Years of schooling wasted to the tiny tiefling girl who could never truly master the art of spells. She learned instead that home was wherever she made it, even if just the home of her skin and bones and body. 

There were only a few scattered belongings lying around the mossy greenhouse. Her backpack, a washboard, and her work bag. She wasn't ashamed of her job, she'd grown to suppress the emotions and swallow her morals to stay alive. She was asked once by a client if she ever thought about her own death when working, and the short answer was no. She refused to stay long enough to process their deaths, and reminded herself that this was all contractual. Nothing more, nothing less. She put her skill as a markswoman to work, fired, marked a bloody fingerprint on the paper, returned it to her employer, then found a new town to hide in. 

Today she sat on the shores of Cirencrestor, tomorrow, who knows where she’d be. She took a moment to admire the waves and look out the distant ships on the horizon line. There was no home to return to, no place in this world who hadn't outgrown her. But there was no time to mourn who she could have been now. Rather, she stared into the sea knowing the only constants in her life are death, and that all is ever changing.


End file.
